


Walked-On

by Tierfal



Category: Death Note
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/pseuds/Tierfal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's got that look again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walked-On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jenwryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/gifts).



> This started out as comment!fic trying to convert Jenwryn to girl!Matt. It didn't hurt, as far as I can tell. XD

Mello comes up behind Matt where she's inexplicably standing to type at the table and slips his arms around her waist, loose folds of striped cotton rustling beneath his hands, because she's got that look of _Don't you get it_ again—and for some reason he can't quite explain, he wants to show that he gets _something_, at least. Because he does, or he thinks so, or he'd like to think.

He nestles in against her hair, which is long and tangled and still a little bit damp from the shower, and it smells like 'cleansing waterfall' or some shit because she refused to get the chocolate-scented one on the grounds that it "doesn't work with her hair," which is absurd, because her hair is always beautiful.

Then again, just knowing that there is chocolate-scented shampoo in the world—and at major retailers—restores a bit of his faith in humanity, so that's all right.

Matt peels away a bit to look at him, frowning in that way that makes her lip pop out like _wow_, and he tries not to notice, because she's about to tell him something or whatever.

Women tend to be big on telling you somethings and whatevers.

"You're not even sorry," she says.

"Of course I'm sorry," he replies.

"You _stepped on 'Age of Empires'_," Matt grits out.

"It was on the _floor_," Mello protests, justifiably he feels. "That's what the floor is for, Matt—_walking on_."

Matt turns to the computer and smacks the Enter key viciously. "It's symptomatic of a larger problem," she mutters.

She's not angry—or not yet. Matt only _really_ gets angry when she's in the middle of a really tense level and Mello strolls in front of the screen or changes the channel or starts tickling her, and then she'll Death Glare the living daylights out of him and let loose a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush, and possibly hit him with the controller hard enough to leave bruises.

This isn't real-angry. This is more like angry-hurt.

Angry-hurt is scarier. He can't laugh in her face when she's angry-hurt and make it go away.

He pulls her a little closer, making sure not to feel her up, because that would kind of ruin his argument, such as it is.

"I really didn't mean to break it," he tells her, and he means it. "I was in a hurry, and I didn't see it." He draws her hair back to tuck it behind her ear and kisses down her neck. "Let me make it up to you."

She gives him a Look, but she rolls her eyes and goes along as he drags her towards the bedroom.

Even with chocolate-scented shampoo, this couldn't be much better.


End file.
